Empty
by Myra Bones
Summary: Two Beings, one an Abyss and one a Demon. Friends. Two Beings, one a Jengu and one an Ala. Sisters. And one Being, very interested in taking power from the youngest two. This'll be interesting. -Rated M cuz I like writing about death and murder and blood.-
1. Prologue

_**This is just the prologue. And I really just posted this cuz my friends were bugging me about it.**_

_**This'll probably because a multi chapter. Actually, it'll probably end after chapter three or something.**_

_**I WROTE THIS. THERE AINT GUNNA BE A DISCLAIMER CUZ THIS SHIT'S MINE, BITCHES! THIS IS COMPLETELY ORIGINAL AND NOT A FANFIC!  
Probably gunna post one chap a week, on saturday. If I think of it.**_

* * *

**_Empty_**

**_Prologue_**

The sound of heels meeting the pavement in measured, rhythmic steps carried through the dead-end alley like a dead sentence. Pieter was sure his heartbeat was heard just as loudly, beating in rapid, panicked pulses. _She_'d managed to corner him, though he couldn't honestly say he was surprised. The Abyss always cornered her victims easily, never breaking a sweat. At least, that was the rumour surrounding her, but there were hundreds of rumours and most of them were incorrect. Apparently, this one wasn't. The rumours were true; once you were on the Abyss' radar, there was no escape, she would not let you out of her sight.

He didn't bang on the wall like all those clichés, he didn't try to run. It was futile anyway. He faced the wall, refusing to turn around and face his certain demise. He heard the footsteps stop right behind him and tensed automatically, her dark aura flowing over him and making him afraid. ''She cannot touch me,'' he thought desperately, and the thought quickly formed a mantra. 'She'll burn; she cannot touch me.'

''Quite correct,'' came the amused comment from behind him. Even her voice was like her name, an abyss, pulling you towards it, enticing you to step towards your certain death. ''I cannot touch you,'' she continued, as if he hadn't almost been hypnotized by her voice. ''and if I stand in front of you, you'll run away.'' She reasoned, sighing as if she was defeated. ''You've beaten me, Mr. Gerards.'' However her voice was still amused, and he wasn't reassured in the slightest. There was no winning with the Abyss, only losing.

There were a few seconds of silence, and inexplicably, he relaxed, hesitant hope seeping into his mind. Was she right, was it really that easy? It couldn't be... and when she next spoke, it was with the voice of an angel and the intent of a demon. It was the most beautiful song and the most pained screams. It spoke of answers and questions, of pain and of pleasure, of beauty and horror. It was mythical, mysterious and mesmerizing, compelling him to listen and obey to the creature that commanded this voice.

''Turn around,'' she said, her voice barely reaching him. ''Look at me. Stare into the abyss. It will be beautiful, I promise you.'' He turned around, compelled by her voice, so beautiful and magnificent, that musical voice that told him he'd be free of all horrors and nightmares and pain if he'd just look at her — a small price to pay for eternal freedom.

Long, flowing black hair trailed down her face, seemingly ending perfectly in a gothic-styled dress that, in turn, ended up in knee-height black boots, ones with high heels and fancy decorations, meant more for intimidation than combat. Her stance was relaxed, unworried. She knew she'd won, as she always did. Her lips were bright red, her skin paler than snow and brighter than the stars, even more beautiful. And her eyes...

Her eyes pulled him in, darker than a starless night and twice as mesmerizing. There was no iris, only pure black. It truly was an abyss, no doubt about it, and he stared into its dark depths and felt himself taking a step closer, as if standing on a cliff and preparing to jump off.

There was the feeling as if he was getting lighter, and being pulled towards her, seeing her beautiful, amazing eyes from up close... closer... too close... he began to struggle, too late—

And then he was no more.

* * *

_- Myra Bones_


	2. Chapter 1

_**No disclaimer. This is mine. Keep your filthy paws off it. Unless you want to make a fanfic from my fic, but I doubt that.**_

* * *

**Chapter one**

_Who will love you?_

Amilyn sighed softly, resting her head on her palm and staring ahead. Myra looked at her in amusement. Normally, she was the best student, but now she couldn't seem to focus long enough to pay attention to their — admittedly boring — teacher. Her light brown hair was messy and uncombed, as if she hadn't bothered to brush it after she'd rolled out of bed. Her eyes were glazed over and she was barely refraining from yawning.

''Long night?'' she guessed, stretching out in her chair. She always had to guess with Amilyn, because she wouldn't use her telepathic powers with her best — and only — friend. Her violet eyes flicked to the teacher, unconcerned. He was scared of her, anyway, and wouldn't bother them unless she bothered the other students. Of course, his fear of her was just, seeing as she was a Demon and more than likely to kill him, but she wouldn't tell him that anytime soon.

''Yeah,'' Amilyn answered tiredly, her thoughts going back to the chase the night before. She never liked it when they ran; unlike Myra, she didn't like the hunt, only the final reward, and even that just because she didn't want to die. She looked up at Myra when the elder girl made a sympathetic sound, one she knew she was the only person or being to have heard. Her silver eyes met Myra's and she frowned, seeing the bright violet. ''You didn't feed last night,'' she commented unnecessarily.

Myra grinned brightly, showing off two large fangs that glittered with deadly venom. ''No, I didn't,'' she agreed. There was no use denying it; her eyes were light blue when she'd just fed, slowly darkening to purple when she needed to feed again. Now, she knew, her eyes were a bright purple, displaying to everyone who understood the colours of her eyes that, unless they weren't particularly fond of their lives — or faces — they'd better back off. As always, Amilyn was an exception. Her eyes flickered to her chosen victim this month: a boy in their English class called Roaldo. Normally, she didn't choose classmates, but this particular boy annoyed her.

Amilyn's eyes followed hers, and she sighed. Myra enjoyed the hunt, seeing her victims frightened much more than she enjoyed the actual reward. Just like her, Myra needed to kill people, or beings, really, since the elder girl wasn't picky, in order to survive, but it was a single difference that set them apart.

You see, Amilyn was an Abyss. An Abyss is a mythical creature born with a weakened soul. Just like any other Being, the Abyss' powers — and weaknesses — start to show at the age of six. Ever since then, she needs a human soul every fortnight to strengthen her own, so she would survive another two weeks just like a normal girl. If she doesn't get them in time, her soul, and her soul only, will die. Since an Abyss does not necessarily require food or water to survive — though they can certainly eat — the body will be left for any Being to use as they see fit.

Myra, however, was different. While the same in that she would die unless she killed, she needed to kill simply because if she didn't, she would go insane. She was a Demon, and Demons are some of the darkest Beings imaginable. If that darkness was not used, not given an outlet, the power inside her body would be too much for her to handle, too much to contain, and she'd slowly become paranoid and edgy, drifting along the fine line between sanity and insanity. Anything, and quite literally anything, could push her over the edge, and an insane Demon was killed, no trial, no healing, simple dead. No chance of survival.

So every so often, usually once a month or so, though some times more often, she killed someone. Not that she wouldn't have killed if she wouldn't go insane without it, mind you. She rather liked killing — comes with being a Demon and the dark powers that were part of a Demon's body. She was a creature of pain and misery, blood and death, and she always would be. It was the darkness inside of her that made it so, made her love pain and death; it made lower Beings and creatures fear her without knowing why. She liked it that way.

Roaldo had been feeling the full effects of that darkness for a few days now, and it was clearly visible. He was on edge, looking around as if he was being followed. Of course, it wasn't Myra's fault they happened to have every class together: that was merely a coincidence... All evidence of his 'cool' bravado had vanished, leaving nothing but a boy twice as scared and pathetic as those he liked to bully. This wasn't a teenage boy on the verge of manhood, this was a toddler who'd just seen a monster underneath his bed, crying and begging for his mommy to chase it away. Myra grinned, knowing she was to blame for the change and liking it.

Of course, she'd have to kill him soon. Tonight, maybe tomorrow at the latest. She'd been procrastinating, not wanting to end the fun too early, but that hadn't been a good idea. Already, she could feel the fine line in her mind between that precious sanity and the feared insanity thinning, tendrils of the deadly curse closing in on her. If she didn't kill soon, she'd be too vulnerable, too unpredictable. She was terrified of that happening.

Myra hummed as she flew through the air, the chilly morning air not bothering her. Her leathery, bat-like wings beat through the air effortlessly, not making any sound as she chased her victim. He was tired: she could hear his ragged breathing and his beating heart, pumping blood faster through his body in a vain and rather useless attempt to keep him alive, to keep him running, fleeing from his certain death. She was not surprised that he was tired, exhausted really. Tired didn't really give him enough credit. He'd run for several hours at least, but his body was running on pure adrenaline and the natural, human fear of death, and he wouldn't stop anytime soon. Not of his own volition, anyway.

She spoke in a sing-song voice, loud enough for him to hear faintly. ''There's no escape,'' she sang softly, a grin showing on her face when she saw her prey flinch in fear. Alright, so maybe it was cliché, but it still worked... and she just loved frightening her kill right before she murdered him — the fear in his eyes, his movements, in his frantically beating heart made them so much satisfying, even if it didn't technically make a difference in the end. The man ran faster, towards known territory, like all humans did in moments of true terror. She snickered quietly to herself, watching him run toward the large P.E. field. The gates would be locked, she knew, and that was when she would strike.

Her wings twitched in anticipation, bringing her higher into the sky just as he reached the gates. She hung there for a moment, enjoying the little show he put on of rattling the gates, crying out, turning around to look for another escape... Myra sighed in appreciation of all the cliché — she did love them, very much so, she had a flair for dramatics. — and flew down to the ground, landing mere inches in front of him. Her wings folded behind her, almost melting into her back as she stepped forwards, backing him into the gate he'd thought would be his salvation but ended up being his damnation. ''So predictable,'' she mused, to unnerve him. She saw the fear in his eyes and grinned to herself as she looked down, looking down at her claws and picking them like they were regular nails. ''You know, I can never decide whether you humans are satisfying or disappointing me,'' she said, before shrugging. ''Oh, well, I suppose it doesn't really matter. Your death will keep me safe for another month or so, and that is worth so much more than personal satisfaction,'' she said, running one nail over his cheek and drawing a thin line of blood, delighting in seeing him flinch and hearing him gasp in pain. She'd turned a popular, 'likable' and, perhaps most importantly, tough guy into a puddle of goo, frightened of everything that even came close to him.

Roaldo was looking just that; terrified but trying — and failing miserably, she might add — to put on a brave face, obviously wanting to stand tall in the face of death. His lips moved in what she recognized as a silent prayer, and she laughed softly. ''God?'' she asked, her voice sounding almost incredulous at his stupidity. ''You're turning to _him_, '' she stated, her dark purple eyes sparkling. ''My dear, you don't know who I am, do you?'' she asked, amusement taking over the incredulousness in her voice. Reluctantly, it seemed, Roaldo shook his head, agreeing with her. He really did not know who she was.

Well, she couldn't blame him. It wasn't like he could recognize her from school; she no longer looked human. Her face was pale as snow, her eyes slitted like a cat's, or a snake's. Two long fangs pointed to her bottom lip. Her ears were pointed upwards, her normal dark brown, almost black hair turned to a purple to match her eyes flowing to just past her shoulder blades. Her nails were the size of her fingers and dangerously sharp. Her face, which looked ordinary in human form, was shaped like a royal's: high cheekbones, thick rosy lips, pointed, dark eyes and a sharp but soft jaw, ending in a high neck, and a forked tail wrapped around her right leg comfortably, flicking every now and then, matching the movements of the wings still on her back.

As she'd been taught by her father, she dropped into a curtsy, though it was mocking and not in actual respect. She only respected those who deserved it; those who had done something worthy of her respect, or gained a power worthy of it. This... vermin, this bacteria contaminating the earth had not done anything to gain her respect, nor would he get the chance to. He was nothing but an insect, something inferior to her and something annoying... something to step on and murder.

''I, my dear Roaldo, am Myra Bones,'' she said, seeing the recognition flashing through his brown eyes. He seemed to almost faint from this knowledge, but somehow he stayed strong, though she suspected it was because he was so afraid he wouldn't let his mind escape. Before he could open his mouth — to speak, plead, yell, or pray again, she did not know, nor did she particularly care — she spoke again. ''Better known, to those worthy enough to know of me and my family, as the Dark Princess, and the one who will one day rule the Dark World.''

Roaldo gulped at this new information. Of course, humans did not known of the Dark World, though they used to, which was where their myths and legends came from. However, now, humans were no longer worthy enough to know of the World, and the knowledge had simply faded over time as they stayed out of their sight. Even though he did not know of it, did not know its power, its brilliance, the wonder it truly was, it _sounded_ frightening, she knew. She loved it, loved seeing the fear in his eyes and knowing _she_ had put it there. She waited a moment for a reaction, sighing in disappointment when none came. She had shocked him beyond repair, it seemed.

''It's no fun when they're not fighting,'' she complained softly, not speaking to anyone in particular. The insanity was gripping at her, she felt it, and she had to act fast or lose the eternal battle. Oh, well, it wouldn't matter much, as he wasn't fighting anymore, anyway, so it wouldn't make much of a difference whether she slaughtered him now or after another few minutes. Not for him, anyway; because for her it could mean the difference between life and death. She much preferred the first option.

Without waiting for another second, she plunged her nails into the man's chest, watching blood drip down his chest with an almost child-like wonder. It was a miracle, truly a piece of art, how easily humans bled. Pierce the skin, and the precious liquid of life simply seeps out of them like a waterfall wanting to emerge from within its confines. There was nothing to stop it, nothing that could stop the bright crimson drops that carried life as well as dead from escaping its prison of skin.

She did not play with them when they were no longer fighting, weren't running. It was useless and a waste of time, time better spent sleeping in her opinion. She killed him swiftly, cutting his throat and watching him choke on his own blood, looking at her with a betrayed look in his eyes. She supposed it was normal that he felt betrayed that a class member of his would have killed him, but she felt no guilt nor pity. Once he was dead, she burned his body.

Her eyes slowly lightened, from the dark purple she had gotten from her father, to the light blue she had inherited from her mother. With a sigh of relief, she felt her mental barriers tighten, become stronger and impenetrable, chasing away the deadly insanity for another month or so, until she slowly grew weaker. It was a Demon's curse, and she'd long since learned to live with it.

She smiled to herself and spread her wings, relishing in the feeling of the cold morning air as she flew to her home to get a few hours of well-deserved, peaceful rest, a rest not bothered with nightmares and insane thoughts, before she would have to get up again to get ready for _school_, for the theatre and drama Amilyn was always so eager to be a part of.

Little did she know that she had not been the only one to witness Roaldo's ultimate demise, nor did she know that the peacefulness of her life would soon be disturbed. Although... she would know soon enough; except it would already be too late.

_Who will love you?_

* * *

**_Hi guys!  
Wow, I can't believe I actually kept my promise of next Saturday. I know, cool, right? Don't count on this being weekly, though, I'm incredibly forgetful and will probably keep you waiting for weeks xD Then again, my Beta will probably kick me awake if I do that._**

**_Yes, I have a Beta! McGonagall's Bola, who is amazing and incredibly patient. No kidding, she uses different colours for different types of mistakes, and I think my story turned out to be a better painting than my actual paintings. Not that that's too difficult, but still..._**

**_Go to her page, she definitely deserves it! She told me about dialogue tags and EMdashes, which my teachers never bothered with. But thank God I know how to celebrate Guy Fawkes day in England... -.-_**

**_Any mistakes still in here (mostly the Authors Note, I suspect) are entirely mine, since my Beta is awesome but not to blame for my fails._**

**_Please, please, please review and then visit McGonagall's Bola for some awesome stories._**

Next chapter up next week. Maybe.

- MB


End file.
